


The Strength of the Wolf

by edibleflowers



Series: Werewolves of Lucis [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Frottage, Kissing, Knotting, M/M, OT4, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Werewolves, a/b/o dynamics, brief creepiness, pre-ffxv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: The problem right now is that Prompto doesn't know what's going to happen next.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit, I struggled with this one for quite a while. I'm not used to having anxiety with a fic when I'm almost 10,000 words into it. But it finally resolved, so here you go. As of this posting (Feb 25, 2017) the fic is not yet finished, so please be patient once I've posted all that's already written.
> 
> The title is from Kipling's Jungle Book. I don't usually memorize poetry, but I've always loved this one.
> 
> Huge thanks to Arumattie for helping me with a lot of worldbuilding and various details. You know which part of this fic is all yours. =D
> 
> Many A/B/O elements were inspired by [Dessa Lux](http://dessa-lux.tumblr.com/books)'s incredible books. I highly recommend reading them if you enjoyed this at all.

> NOW this is the Law of the Jungle — as old and as true as the sky;  
>  And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
> 
> As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back —  
>  For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.  
>  \--Rudyard Kipling, _The Jungle Book_  
> 

* * *

Prompto isn't an idiot, no matter what anyone thinks. He may seem preoccupied with his photography and other stuff like video games and television shows, but he's smart, too. He just doesn't choose to apply it all the time. He needs motivation, something the subjects he studied in school rarely supplied.

Right now, he's got a metric ton of the stuff. 

His love life may feel somewhat sorted out (somewhat, he says, only because he still doesn't quite know how he'll fit in with Gladio and Ignis, and he has no idea what his next heat will be like. At least he doesn't have to worry about that for another three weeks); he's certainly comfortable about his feelings for Noctis and vice versa. 

Of course, that has added a new wrinkle to his life; he's part of a pack now, which means new relationships and ties to a world he never knew existed a week ago. Still, he trusts that Noct and the others will guide him through it, keep him from making any truly heinous mistakes.

The problem right now is that he doesn't know what's going to happen next. As incredible as his night with Noct was, eventually they both had to get up and leave: Prompto has a part-time job at an electronics store, and Noct does volunteer work at an animal shelter (which reminds Prompto to ask Noct if the animals are more trusting, or less, because of the wolf thing). It's not as if they can put the whole world on hold and stay in bed. 

_Be pretty sweet if we could, though_ , he thinks wistfully, and then has to apologize to a customer for not noticing her while his mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Just as he's getting ready to leave work, his phone buzzes with a text message. He grins as he pulls it out, anticipating something from Noctis, maybe some flirting or more. Instead, the text is from Ignis.

Prompto wasn't even sure Ignis's number was on his phone, but here it is, above a text that reads: _When your shift ends, please come to the Citadel. King Regis wishes to meet you._

Prompto nearly drops his phone. He looks up at the clock -- five minutes left, he's about to cash out his register -- and suddenly wishes he still had an hour to go.

Instead, he texts back: _uh ok... half an hour?_

 _I'll meet you at the front steps_ , Ignis replies, and Prompto swallows hard and shoves his phone in his pocket, so glad he doesn't have a job that leaves him in need of a shower after his shift.

* * *

Granted, he's not exactly dressed to visit with royalty, but if Ignis knew he was at work, then he has to know he's in work clothes. So he tries not to sweat it on the train over to the Citadel. The train stop is outside the gates, of course; he has to request entry (at least Ignis put him on the list, so he doesn't have to beg his way in) and then walk all the way to the steps. It's far enough off that he can't make out Ignis's slender figure, clad in a charcoal-grey suit, until he's halfway across the vast circular roundabout at the base of the tower.

Ignis only smiles when he sees Prompto, doesn't reach for him or touch him or anything. In the open air, Prompto scents Ignis's mild beta musk, but it's diluted by the wind, by the smell of concrete and cars and other people, and recognizes that right now, they can't indulge or acknowledge the shift in their relationship. So he just smiles up at Ignis as he mounts the stairs, pretending to pant once he reaches the landing where Ignis stands.

"You like to make a guy get his exercise, don't you," he says.

"Oh, we serve refreshments halfway up in case you get tired out on the climb." Ignis takes the joke as intended, gesturing toward the last low set of stairs up to the main doors. "Seriously, though, you could have let me know," he adds as they start up. "I would have gladly come by to give you a lift."

Prompto blinks at Ignis. It hadn't even occurred to him to ask. "Uh. Maybe next time?" _If there_ is _a next time and Regis doesn't kill me on sight_ , he adds to himself.

Fortunately, after the large lobby, there's an elevator that takes them up to the royal apartments. When they step out, Prompto feels himself relaxing; he recognizes the main corridor from when he was here during his heat. "So we're not gonna be in, like, the throne room," he says, relieved.

"Not unless you'd like to," Ignis says, so dry that Prompto stares at him. "Now, Prompto, try to relax. Just call him 'Your Highness' and you'll be fine. I should warn you, though, he will stay at the far end of the room from you. It's nothing personal--" Prompto's still staring at him, so Ignis stops and turns to him. 

"What aren't you telling me?" Prompto asks.

Ignis allows himself the slightest smile of approval. "You may have deduced that Regis is an alpha, like his son. In fact, he's the senior alpha for Lucis." Prompto tilts his head in confusion, and Ignis goes on. "While he has his own personal pack, he essentially oversees the entire network of werewolves for the country. He doesn't actually _personally_ do most of that, because it'd be a lot even for someone who wasn't also the king of the realm, but he does take care of any problems that arise within Insomnia. Since Noct chose you for his mate, he naturally wanted to meet you."

"And if he doesn't like me?" Prompto can't help but ask.

Ignis glances around; the corridor is empty except for them and a couple of guards all the way at the far end of the hall, and he steps in close, his hands resting on Prompto's shoulders. "Even if he didn't -- and I can't imagine that he wouldn't -- it doesn't matter. You're Noct's mate. You've chosen each other. To be honest, I believe the king would have wanted to meet you eventually in any case, simply because you're Noct's best friend and he wants to make sure his son is surrounded by good people. All right?"

Prompto nods. He lets himself do what he wanted to do on the steps outside; he steps into Ignis's space and closes his arms around him. Ignis is warm and approving; more, he's _pack_. Maybe not fully until Prompto's heat hits, but they're still bound together through Noct, and Prompto likes all the implications of that. Prompto rests his head on Ignis's shoulder until he feels his breathing has slowed to a normal rate, enjoying the slow strokes of Ignis's hands on his back, over his hair.

"Come on," Ignis says finally, and draws back. They continue down the hall to the elaborate doors; the guards step aside, and Ignis holds the door open for Prompto.

He didn't know what he expected, but it makes sense to see a formal receiving area, possibly for private state visits or... whatever it is kings do, he's never really thought about it that much. One wall of the room is nothing but glass, revealing a stunning view of Insomnia. Prompto steps toward it almost on instinct before Ignis clears his throat. 

_Oh. Right. King. Little more important than sightseeing_. He turns away reluctantly, just as a door on the far side of the room opens and King Regis emerges, a butler right behind him.

"Ah, there you are," Regis says, and Prompto goes still. The last thing he expected was informality.

"Sire," Prompto says. Belatedly, he remembers it's customary to bow. He manages one as best he can. Ignis, who's stepped into the room and let the door close behind him, doesn't look, but Prompto can scent something like disapproval, or maybe resignation.

"Prompto Argentum, yes?" Regis gestures toward a sitting area near the windowed wall, and Prompto gratefully moves toward it, staying close to the wall. Even from here, he's getting the alpha-scent from Regis, and ye gods and little fishes it's powerful. 'Senior alpha' his scrawny pale ass; Regis is practically President-God Alpha.

"Sir, yes, that's me," he says. He waits for Regis to sit; the butler hovers behind his couch. Prompto sits, too, all too aware of his khakis and polo with the company logo stitched on the breast. He must look like an idiot. _Can I help you find a television?_ he thinks inanely.

"I've heard a great deal about you from my son," Regis says. Prompto has a moment of wondering if he's going to be discreetly disappeared, and then Regis laughs, shaking his head a little. "I must admit, I didn't believe half of it. But I've been glad that he's had a good friend outside the Citadel. And now he's chosen you for his mate? You have been informed as to all that entails, yes?"

"Yes," Prompto confirms. He dares a glance at Ignis, who hasn't moved. "I had a, um, a pretty thorough explanation. And I understand you're in charge of the packs, as well as the kingdom?"

Regis nods. "That is the case, yes. Good. I knew anyone who spent time with my son would be a quick learner." His smile flashes, unexpectedly warm. Prompto swallows. This is just, just _barely_ on the edge of being weird. Regis has a natural personal charisma all on its own; a normal human would respond to it without even knowing. Adding in the alpha scent and authority... Prompto's more grateful than ever that they're on opposite ends of the room.

The king leads the conversation into lighter talk -- asking about Prompto's work, as if the polo shirt wasn't obvious, about his parents, other innocuous questions. Gradually, Prompto begins to relax. The butler fetches refreshments for them (something amber-colored for Regis, water with plenty of ice for Prompto) as they talk, and Prompto's even feeling comfortable enough to offer to show the king some of his photography when the doors burst open.

Noctis is there -- Prompto had scented him coming down the hall, but he still flinches when he hears the doors swinging wide -- and the prince turns toward them at once, his face red from running. Surprise fades into a wary alarm as he takes in the tableau.

"Noct," Ignis, still stationed by the door, says drily. "How kind of you to join us."

"You could have told me you wanted to talk to Prom," Noct says to his father. Prompto doesn't quite know how to feel about being talked about like he's not even there, but Regis gestures to the couch where Prompto sits.

"I wanted to get to know him a little without you looming over him," the king replies. "Noct, have a seat. Samuel?" He raises a hand, and the butler disappears, presumably to get something for Noct.

Noctis sits right next to Prompto, practically in his lap. He smells sour, no doubt from running in here, but he's unhappy, too. "Dude," Prompto murmurs. "Chill. It's fine. We're just hanging out." He pauses. "Well, I mean. If you can, y'know, hang out with a king."

"He can hear you," Noct replies, equally low.

"Then why are we whispering?"

"I should have known you two would be a match for each other," Regis chuckles from the other end of the room. Noct's scent begins to shift, fading from immediate discontent into something that's still unhappy but not as likely to erupt.

Regis doesn't keep them much longer. Prompto finishes his water and Noct downs a glass of pop in the time it takes Regis to ask that Prompto bring his portfolio by any time; Prompto makes a mental note to get a portfolio and print some pictures because holy shit, when the king asks, you don't say no. (Besides, he needs to get on it if he's going to apply to any kind of college in the fall.) Regis dismisses them at last, and with relief, Prompto follows Noct out of the room, Ignis behind them.

Back in Noct's suite, Prompto collapses on the couch. "What the fuck is my life now?" he asks no one in particular.

"Welcome to the family," Noct says, right before he falls on top of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto finally gets some of that Ignis goodness.

"So, Noctis. Staying here, or going back to your apartment for the night?" Ignis asks.

Noct looks up from the game for a moment. He and Prompto made out for a while, but Prompto really wasn't in the mood for sex so soon after his impromptu interview with Regis; besides, knowing the King was just down the hall from them put a bit of a damper on his sex drive. So now they're playing Noct's favorite killing-aliens-in-space game and Prompto's kicking Noct's ass for once.

"Oh, gotcha!" he yells as the moment of distraction gives him the opening he was waiting for.

"Fuck!" Noct groans. "Uh -- I guess staying here? Up to Prom, really."

Prompto shrugs. "I don't have to get up early tomorrow. Wouldn't mind staying." Actually, he's kind of in awe. He's _hanging out_ in the freaking _Citadel_ , like he belongs with all these important people.

When he glances over at Noct and sees a little smile playing at the corners of Noct's mouth, his heart skips a beat or twelve. He kinda _does_ belong with these people.

"Very well." Ignis stands from the table where he's been making notes on a tablet, a binder laid out next to it -- everything neatly squared to line up on the table -- and straightens his vest, though he doesn't bother putting his jacket back on. "I'll go and get something from the kitchens to make for dinner, shall I?"

"Sure." Noctis's attention has already returned to the game, but Prompto finds his controller dangling loose in his hands. 

"Uh, can I come with you?" Prompto says, surprising himself.

Noct glances at him, an eyebrow raised in mild surprise. Ignis looks equally surprised, but he nods after a moment. "If you'd like. It's nothing exciting, I assure you."

Prompto pushes to his feet. "I just want to see everything I can while I'm here," he says with a grin, while Noct sighs and switches menus to find the online multiplayer mode. 

"Wanna get Ignis alone, you don't have to make up excuses." Noctis is staring at the screen, so it takes Prompto a moment to see the teasing gleam in his eyes. Pretending shock, Prompto clutches at his chest and staggers backward.

"How very dare you! I am a _perfect_ gentleman."

"As am I." Ignis offers his arm, back straight, formality personified. "Would you care to accompany me, my good man?"

Raising his nose high in the air, Prompto steps over to Ignis and links his arm around the offered elbow, his free hand holding high on his chest as if he's clad in finery and about to have his portrait done. 

"Pip pip, there's a good fellow," he says. Noctis snorts audibly as they leave the room.

* * *

Prompto really is interested to see the inner workings of the Citadel. They take an elevator to the massive kitchens on one of the lower floors, where meals are prepared for the staff during the day and for the residents at all hours of the day and night. The king's personal chef greets Ignis like an old friend -- which he is, Prompto assumes -- and lets them have the run of the pantry and walk-in cooler.

It's probably more food than Prompto's ever seen in one place, outside of a supermarket, in his life. Ignis procures a basket from somewhere and stocks it: some fresh salmon fillets wrapped in white paper, sprigs of herbs, pasta, fat stalks of bright green asparagus ("I know," Ignis says with a dire sigh, "but one lives in eternal hope"). Prompto's hand twitches at the sight of freshly-baked pastries lined up for the evening dessert, decorated with swirls of pastry cream and fruit, but he manages to restrain himself from taking one before they leave.

"I've everything else we need upstairs," Ignis comments as they return to the elevator bank. 

Prompto tips his head, leaning against the wall and watching Ignis. "You cook for everyone all the time?"

"Depends who's there," Ignis replies. "Usually Noct, at least, since he's incapable of putting together any sort of balanced meal for himself."

Prompto snickers. "Bet he says wolves don't eat vegetables."

"How well you know him." Ignis's smile is sly.

The elevator arrives just then, which is fortunate, because Prompto really wants to kiss that smile, and he'd rather not do it in public view.

He barely waits for the elevator car doors to close before hooking a hand around the handle of the basket tucked over Ignis's elbow. When Ignis looks up at him, mild curiosity in his eyes (and a clear scent of intrigue rising from him), Prompto tugs him closer. His back meets the rear wall of the elevator; Ignis rests a hand on the wall beside Prompto's head, smile widening as he leans in close.

"Hi," Prompto says, and tips up to meet Ignis's mouth with his own.

He remembers kissing Ignis before, frantic in the beginning of his first heat. It's so much nicer now, when he can focus on something beside crazed need. Ignis has sweet, finely-drawn lips, smooth and warm against his own, and when Ignis's tongue slips into Prompto's mouth, Prompto shivers all over. He's just starting to wind an arm around Ignis when the elevator stops and the doors open.

"Let me just put the food away," Ignis murmurs. He pulls away, leaving Prompto to trail after him, inhaling hard. Ignis's scent is even richer now with arousal, and he picks up the unique notes of him: paper, ink, something like woodsmoke. Everyone has their own smell; Prompto wonders what his is.

When they get back to the suite, Noctis has abandoned the game for the paperwork Ignis left out on the table. "Just be a moment," Ignis says, going to the open kitchen to set the basket down. He puts the fish away in the refrigerator. Noctis doesn't raise his head, but Prompto sees his nostrils flare.

"You two go have fun," he says. "I gotta finish reading this."

"Sure it's OK?" Prompto can't keep himself from going to Noct, sliding his arms around Noct from behind and leaning over him for a moment. He kisses Noctis's neck; Noctis shivers a little, then turns enough to smile up at Prompto.

"Totally sure. I told you, you're pack. We're all here for each other, and you get to make your own choices about who you want to be with. And I really want you and Iggy and Gladio to bond before your next heat. So go. Maybe I'll come in after I'm done with this."

"Maybe we'll try to tempt you out of it," Prompto says, feeling a surge of heat and hunger. Noctis inhales, then swallows. Smiling to himself -- it's still new and so exciting to know how he affects Noct, to be able to tell how he does -- he saunters over to the door where Ignis, having put everything away, is waiting for him.

Ignis makes a point of kissing Prompto, easy and lazy, before tugging him into the room and closing the door behind them.

* * *

"Kind of mean, don't you think?" Prompto grins as he stumbles after Ignis to the bed.

"It might just motivate him," Ignis replies, and lazily sprawls himself on the mattress.

As if there isn't a closed door and a solid wall between them, Prompto hears Noctis mutter, "Oh, just get on with it already."

Prompto blinks at Ignis, who just chuckles. "Werewolf hearing," he says. Bemused, Prompto shrugs and goes with it. He's easily distracted, anyway; Ignis is unbuttoning his vest now, his long delicate fingers working each button free of constraining fabric. Prompto's mouth goes dry and a moment later he's on Ignis.

"Gods," he pants into Ignis's mouth, "you're not gonna tease me like that, are you? You're gonna fuck me, right?"

"Eventually." Ignis nips at Prompto's lower lip, sucks the skin into his mouth. Prompto shivers, rocks his hips lazily against Ignis. The feeling of excitement and the slickness that accompanies it no longer bothers Prompto, especially when he sees Ignis's eyes go dark in response to the new scent in the air. "All right," Ignis concedes, his voice rougher now, "perhaps a little sooner rather than later," and his hands skim into Prompto's waistband to untuck his polo. 

Undressing doesn't take much time, and yet every moment is torture. Prompto yanks his polo off by dragging the collar at the back of his neck over his head while Ignis gets the vest off; with both of them on their knees on the bed, Prompto unbuttons Ignis's shirt and drags the tails out from his pants while Ignis kisses him urgently, laser-focused as if he's intent on learning every bit of Prompto's mouth and tongue. When the shirt is off, Prompto takes a moment to skim his hands over Ignis's toned chest and flat belly, down to his waistband; then he starts on the belt and trousers, working them open with fumbling fingers.

He goes still when Ignis's fingers linger, just for a moment, on his lower belly. The marks are faint, silvery, old, barely even noticeable in certain lights. Prompto waits, quivering, for Ignis to say something, even though he knows from his scent that Ignis wants him just as much as before. Blessedly, Ignis just kisses him again, touching him there for a moment like a benediction. Then his palms skim around Prompto's waist to the small of his back, and Prompto, relieved, finishes tugging down on Ignis's pants. 

Ignis may not be as impressively-sized as Noctis, but really, Prompto isn't about to quibble. He reaches to touch Ignis for the first time, caressing him with a couple of fingers then loosely curling his fingers for a few light strokes. Hands busy at the opening of Prompto's slacks, Ignis sucks in a breath and lets it out again. "Oh, that _is_ nice," he mutters, mouthing at Prompto's neck, nuzzling his ear. "What would you like me to do to you, Prompto?"

"Think I told you already," Prompto says, his head dropped to Ignis's shoulder. Ignis's efficient hands find their way into Prompto's briefs, skim them down; Prompto's cock pops free of restraint and he keens a little at the sudden release of pressure. "Want you to fuck me, Iggy. You get a knot too, right? I wanna feel that in me."

From his limited range of view, he watches his own fist slide on Ignis's cock. Ignis is uncut, and the foreskin slides back with every easy stroke, revealing the angry-red head glistening with pre-come. He rubs his thumb there; Ignis shudders, and a new wave of want-need-yearning scent wafts in the room.

"Enough," Ignis says suddenly, and he takes Prompto's mouth for another searching kiss, at the same time stilling Prompto's hand with a firm grasp of his wrist. When he draws back, they're both panting, and Ignis gestures with his chin toward the rest of the bed, huge and empty. "Go on, then, if that's what you want."

Grinning, Prompto twists and lets himself fall face-down on the mattress. He hears Ignis's sharp inhale, wiggles a little to show off his bare ass, then belatedly kicks his shoes off and lets them fall to the floor. There's a frantic rustling noise -- Ignis getting his pants the rest of the way off in a hurry -- and a moment later he feels Ignis's hands grasping his jeans to finish tugging them off as well. Prompto sighs a little and rubs his hard cock into the bedspread.

"Want you so bad, Iggy, I'm so wet for you," he mumbles.

"I can tell," Ignis says. His voice, dropped at least an octave, rumbles into Prompto's senses. "Gods, you are lovely."

Another time, Prompto might be put out by a description like that. Right now he doesn't care; he feels sexy and hot and he loves how he can tell, in so many ways, that Ignis wants him.

The mattress dips as Ignis rests a hand by Prompto's shoulder; the other hand trails soft down Prompto's spine. Prompto has a moment to shiver in anticipation, and then he feels Ignis's mouth planting warm, wet kisses at his nape, over his shoulders and then lower, lower, following the path laid out by his hand. _Oh fuck_ , Prompto thinks when Ignis's tongue works into the cleft of his ass, and the next moment his world shatters into a hundred thousand shards of pleasure. Ignis's mouth is _there_ , that agile clever tongue working at his relaxed opening, licking and tasting and teasing and making circles and pushing into Prompto's body.

It's too much, between the surprise and the powerful sensation. If Prompto hadn't already been worked up, he might have lasted a fraction of an instant longer. As it is, he comes with a helpless wail of pleasure, hands making fists in the bedspread.

"Ah, that's a good beginning, I think," Ignis murmurs, and dives back in for more.

At some point, Prompto begins to wonder if Ignis is trying to kill him. Death by climax. It's probably not the worst way to go, but after the second orgasm, he's begun to shake. "Ignis," he says, "I mean, oh gods, this is fucking incredible and all--"

"Hm?" Ignis has been alternating using his mouth and his fingers, three of which are now working steadily in Prompto's body. Prompto tips his ass up and twists to give Ignis the best glare he can under the circumstances.

"I'm more than fucking ready for you," he says imperiously. Well, that's the goal, anyway: it comes out more like a whine.

Ignis wipes his face; the lower half of it is wet, and his lips are full and glossy with Prompto's slick. "I could do that for much longer if you'd let me," he says, "but as my omega requires." 

Gods above, but Prompto could get off on the sound of Ignis reading the fucking phone book. "Please," he says, softer, and feels the mattress shift again as Ignis moves up and over him, nudges his thighs apart with one knee, runs gentle fingers down Prompto's back. The tenderness of the gesture makes Prompto shiver a little. He reaches for a pillow, and Ignis helps him tuck it under his belly. Then, as if he can't quite wait another moment either, Ignis fits himself to Prompto. Prompto can hear rough breathing as the head of Ignis's cock slips into him, so easy, so smooth. 

Ignis himself doesn't seem to believe how easy it is, either. A thrill shimmers through Prompto as Ignis slides deeper, deeper, his weight sinking him in one long slow stroke until he's buried completely, his groin hot against Prompto's ass. "Prompto," Ignis gasps; his hands land on the mattress, bracketing Prompto's ribs, as he slumps down to blanket Prompto with his body.

" _Fuck_ ," Ignis mutters, and then he draws back until he's nearly slipped out of Prompto. Prompto moans at the sudden sensation of emptiness, biting his lip. Ignis somehow holds himself there for an impossibly long moment that has them both shaking a little, and then Ignis drives in again, deep and hard, and Prompto thinks he's going to lose his mind from the sheer pleasure of it. 

He slows after the first few thrusts, thankfully, so that the head of his cock isn't _quite_ hitting Prompto right _there_ every time (if he did, Prompto's pretty sure he actually would die of bliss). Even the smooth steady slide of Ignis's cock in him is delicious; Prompto squirms under him, rocks his hips back to meet Ignis at the apex of each push. 

Ignis pulls back suddenly, his cock popping free of Prompto with a weird wet sound. Prompto groans in frustration, but Ignis's hands are on his hips, tugging him backward, and Prompto gets the picture quickly enough; he gets his knees under him, ass up in the air for Ignis, and is rewarded by Ignis's cock filling him again, this time from a steeper angle that has Prompto squirming and moaning and coming within a dozen strokes.

This time, he knows what to anticipate and he's ready for it. He feels the swelling at his rim, the heated press as Ignis pulls back, pushes in hard again, working the growing knot against Prompto's sensitive rim. Prompto pants, mewling into the bedspread, pushing back in mute demand until Ignis gives a low, shuddering moan, his belly fluttering against Prompto's ass. Heat fills Prompto as Ignis comes in him, a long slow unspooling that leaves Ignis shaking and gasping for air. 

"Gods," Ignis breathes, and collapses to his side. Prompto moves with him -- not like he has much of a choice, but he's happy to sprawl loosely against Ignis, their bodies spooned together. Ignis's arm loops possessively about Prompto's chest, absently skimming through the come that's beginning to dry there stickily. 

"I know, right?" Prompto mumbles. "Fucking intense."

"Much more than I thought it would be." Ignis's mouth finds Prompto's neck, his ear, dropping gentle kisses on his skin and in his hair. Prompto shivers pleasantly. He can still feel Ignis coming in him, little pulses of semen with each jerk of Ignis's cock. "And you're all right with this?"

Prompto's surprised into a soft laugh. He turns his head so he can kiss Ignis -- a little awkward, but not impossible. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"I know," Ignis says, a little testy -- but sounding apologetic underneath that. "It's just that I'm surprised at how well you're processing all this."

"Mm." Prompto manages a one-shouldered shrug and lets his arm drop over Ignis's. He's still hard, too, but he likes this right now, where they can relax a little while still being so deeply, intimately connected. "I, uh. Well, I mean, I sort of. It's not like wanting you guys is exactly a new thing for me, you know?" he says at last, feeling himself blush a little. "Let's just say I've fantasized. Never thought it'd actually happen."

"About all three of us?" Ignis sounds less shocked now, more relieved. "Well. I suppose that does make this a little easier."

Prompto hums in low pleasure, nodding. "S-so to speak. Course, I never realized it'd be _this_ good. Or... uh. This weird, either." He grins over his shoulder at Ignis. "Good weird, though."

"Well, that's a relief," Ignis says, dry-voiced, and Prompto twists to kiss him again. This time, Ignis's hand falls to Prompto's cock, and Prompto moans aloud at the fresh wave of sensation. Ignis makes some sort of pleased sound, like approval, his fingers curling into a fist to stroke and slide.

Prompto loses track of time after that. Ignis gets him off again, though this time the climax is languid and less heated; he clenches down to try and squeeze Ignis into another orgasm. It's delicious to feel Ignis shuddering in him, giving in to overwhelming sensation; Prompto reaches back, grasps Ignis's hip, holds on as Ignis pulses again and again.

Finally, the knot recedes, slowly subsiding and reminding Prompto of how deliciously sore he is. Ignis pulls back with a low weak sound, collapsing to his back; Prompto pulls the pillow out from under him and groans as he flops next to him.

"I just realized why this was a bad idea," Ignis says. Prompto goes cold.

"What?"

"We should have waited until after dinner." Ignis props himself on an elbow and smiles lazily down at Prompto. "I still have to cook."

"Oh my gods, don't _do_ that to a guy!" Prompto laughs and tugs Ignis down for a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting through the new moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did try to write some of this in someone else's point of view other than Prompto. You can wave to that moment as it goes by in this chapter.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, they both doze for a little while. Ignis is the one to wake first; he tugs the bedspread out from under Prompto and finds the abused pillow to strip the case off, putting both in the private laundry shaft. Then he nudges Prompto awake and herds him into the shower. Still half-asleep, Prompto is biddable and rather adorable, and he wakes up once the warm water comes down on them, happy to let Ignis wash him down.

Once they've dried off and gotten dressed again, Ignis heads back into the main room with Prompto close on his heels to find the reason why Noctis didn't join them: Gladio's arrived, also fresh out of the shower after a day of training, and they're lazily making out on the couch. Ignis clears his throat; Gladio lifts his head and smiles. 

"There you are. I was wondering."

"No you weren't," Ignis says, adjusting his glasses and heading over to the kitchen. 

"Well." Gladio shrugs and nudges Noctis up off him. Prompto wanders over in their direction, looking a little awkward, but he and Noctis soon pick up their video game as if they'd never left off, while Gladio gets up and, adjusting himself, comes over to the long counter that separates the kitchen from the rest of the room.

"So you and Prom, huh?" he asks, settling on one of the bar stools.

Ignis glances at Gladio only for a moment before turning to put a pan on the stove and turn on the burner. "Prompto and I, yes," he replies.

"I want details," Gladio says. From the couch, Prompto yelps.

"Hey! I'm right here, you know."

Ignis quirks a smile at Gladio, then retrieves the salmon fillets from the refrigerator and begins seasoning them. "Perhaps later. Anything interesting happen today?"

"Nah." Gladio reaches for an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and rubs it on his shirt before taking a bite. "Dad's working on the security stuff for the gala, all the planning to get everyone in safely."

"Oh, that's right," Ignis says, mostly to make Gladio roll his eyes: as if Ignis could forget something as big as that. "Prompto," he adds in a louder voice. "Do you have any formal wear?"

"Formal wear?" Distracted by the game, Prompto responds only after his character has spectacularly died. "Do I look like someone who has formal wear? I rented a tux for Homecoming."

"Ah, of course." Ignis rinses his hands off and takes out his phone to make a note. "I need to know when you're free in the next week."

"Huh?" 

"The gala," Noctis says, and Prompto groans as his character dies _again_. "It's a wolf thing. Every year there's a big get-together for all the werewolves in Lucis. Dad puts it out to the news as a charity ball thing--" He rolls his eyes when Prompto snickers at the word 'ball' and goes on. "That way a lot of people who aren't politicians or statesmen or whatever can get in here without it looking weird. It's formal, so you have to have a tux."

"What in the name of the Six makes you think _I'm_ gonna be going to something like that?" Prompto's given up on the game to watch Noctis, who doesn't seem to have a problem splitting his focus between supporting his team and talking about this.

"'Cause you're a wolf," Gladio says. "That means you're automatically on the invite list."

"And, you know, you're my mate and I wanna show you off." Noctis's eyes are on the TV, but Prompto sees the faintest blush staining his cheeks. It's too adorable. Prompto throws his arms around Noctis, ignoring his yell of protest.

"At any rate," Ignis says, over the sound of the fillets sizzling in the pan and Prompto delivering loud, smacking kisses to Noct's cheeks, "I will be happy to get you an appointment to have a tuxedo fitted for you. And we should probably go over what's expected at this sort of thing."

"Sounds boring as hell," Prompto says. "Buncha people standing around chatting about adult stuff? Pass."

Noct shakes his head, sitting up and draping an arm around Prompto's shoulders. "Sorry, but you have to go. Especially since you're new to the wolf stuff. You need to know who's who, just in case you run into 'em on the street or something. It's good for socializing, and like, networking and stuff, too. According to my dad, anyway."

"I don't need to network." Prompto slumps into Noct's warmth. "I'll just live off my princely mate and pack and have lots of sex."

Gladio snorts. "Good luck with that."

"No, it's really kinda fun," Noct says, absently kissing Prompto's neck. "Everyone's all dressed up, the food is fantastic, there's champagne, there's music, you get to schmooze and be all elegant and snooty for a night."

"Hm." Prompto's half-distracted by Noct's mouth on his neck. He leans back into Noct's warmth, humming. "I guess it could be fun. Just for one night."

* * *

The tuxedo fitting isn't nearly as intimidating as Prompto was afraid it would be. Sure, he has to stand in his underwear (loose boxers and an undershirt he'd worn specifically for the occasion) while a hunched old man hums and measures and writes things down, while Ignis stands in the corner apparently invested in some urgent business on his phone. Prompto stares at the floor and thinks about anything but what had happened between them just a couple of days earlier.

After he's tried on a jacket and trousers, and the tailor has hemmed and hawed and measured some more, Prompto's released -- but as soon as he's pulled his jeans on, before he even grabs his shirt, Ignis is steering him into another part of the shop. "You need a good shirt and shoes," he says.

"Oh my gods, Ignis, who's going to be looking at my _shoes_ ," Prompto whines.

"You laugh, but appearances must be maintained." Ignis holds up a dress shirt on a hanger to Prompto, then puts it back and chooses another. "Come now. You get to wear fancy clothes and play dress-up for a night. And you won't have to worry about manners or using the wrong fork. Most of those there will be people just like you. What size shoe do you wear?"

"Ten and a half. What do you mean, people like me? Commoners?"

"Precisely," Ignis says. "And even those of higher rank will treat you as an equal, given we all function in the same secret society." He hangs the second shirt up again and goes to a rack of shoeboxes, picking one out and handing it over to Prompto. "Try them on." As Prompto sits and shucks off the sneakers he'd fortuitously worn today, Ignis goes back to the shirts to find another. They're all identical to Prompto's untrained eye, white and long-sleeved and boring. Still, when Ignis brings him a shirt to try on, he obediently does so, standing to finish buttoning it.

Ignis pauses. Blinks at him for a moment. Then he steps closer, reaching for Prompto's wrist. Bemused, Prompto lets Ignis button one cuff, then the other. 

"Very nice," Ignis murmurs, soft and low. Prompto turns to look at himself in the mirror on the wall, blinks. The shirt fits him like a second skin, perfectly fitted through the chest, and with the cuffs buttoned, he looks... good. 

He tugs down on each cuff with the opposite hand to smooth out the sleeves. Beside him, Ignis inhales. Suddenly, Prompto gets it. He smiles slyly, catching Ignis's eyes in the reflection. "OK," he says. "I'm sold. Suit me up."

"I knew you'd come around," Ignis says, and slides an arm around Prompto to kiss him -- a teasing, too-brief contact -- before he steps back and goes to ring up their purchases.

Red-faced and exhilarated all at once, Prompto begins to unbutton the shirt.

* * *

The new moon, when it comes, isn't so bad. Ignis has thoughtfully programmed Prompto's phone with an alert to remind him a few days in advance, not that he really needs it: the fact that he starts cooking everything in the house is enough of a warning, really. The worst part is he's not really that hungry: he just wants to see everyone fed. He puts a bunch of food in the freezer and takes more over to Noct's apartment.

"Oh my gods," Noct declares, when Prompto appears with a veritable mountain of plasticware containers in his arms.

"New moon's tomorrow," Ignis says behind him, and the two of them help unload, to Prompto's relief.

"Please tell me you didn't clean out your parents' fridge," Noctis says while they're putting it all away.

"I did a bunch of shopping." Prompto collapses at the dining table and watches Gladio and Noct open containers, peering in everything and getting plates. "I don't even _like_ to cook that much, but my parents eat out a lot and I had to learn how..." He trails off, not wanting to go into details. It doesn't matter. Noct has brought plates and all three of them are digging in eagerly.

Prompto sits with his hand on his chin and watches them eat. It makes him feel good, like he's taking care of them.

"Are you self-taught?" Ignis asks. Prompto nods. "You're very good for not having taken classes or anything."

"Now you're gonna make me cook all the time, huh?" Prompto manages a smile. Noct scoots his chair over and spoons some curry and rice onto Prompto's plate.

"Only when you want to," Ignis says. 

"Eat," Noctis urges.

"Not hungry," Prompto tells him, but he accepts a few bites from Noctis's fork.

* * *

While Noctis and Ignis clean up the food, Gladio urges Prompto up out of his chair and slings an arm around him to escort him into Noct's bedroom.

"Not in the mood," Prompto says when Gladio sits him on the bed.

Kneeling at his feet, Gladio chuckles. It comes out like a low rumble of thunder. "Do I look like I'm planning on throwing you down and havin' my way with you?" he asks, as he undoes the laces on Prompto's boots and tugs them off one at a time.

"Maybe." Propping himself up by his hands, Prompto gives Gladio his best seductive smile (which, under the circumstances, is far from anything resembling seduction); Gladio only smiles lazily in return and kneels up so that he can pull Prompto's shirt off.

"All right, hot stuff. Get some sleep. We'll probably be in to join you later."

"'Kay." Prompto's feeling biddable and slow. He leans forward to kiss Gladio. It's chaste and soft and light; Gladio pulls back afterward and kisses Prompto's forehead. Then he gets up and leaves the room, turning off the light and closing the door behind him. Prompto manages to stave off sleep for as long as it takes to peel his jeans off. Then, crawling under the covers, he falls into slumber.

* * *

He's aware of nothing for a long time. His dreams are inconsequential, meaningless series of images. When he wakes, he feels dry-mouthed and scratchy -- and warm. Not just warm, actually. More like sweaty-humid-hot. He lifts up and finds the others all curled up around him in Noct's big bed. Noct's closest to him; he'd drifted in his sleep and settled on Noct's chest. Behind him is Ignis, pressed to Prompto's back, and Gladio's on the far side of Noct, flat on his own back and snoring.

Prompto's throat goes tight. His pack is all here with him. They're his as much as he's theirs.

As he shifts, trying to see if there's a way he can slip out of bed without waking everyone else, sensation suddenly prickles along his skin. Something tugs at the edge of his consciousness. Beside him, Noct snorts and then lifts his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Shh," Prompto whispers. "Go back to sleep." He sits up, looking around. It's still dark outside, the night sky a velvety blue instead of black: dawn is barely on the horizon. That's not what woke Prompto, though. The sliver of a moon has begun to rise. He shivers all over. He can _feel_ the pull of the distant satellite, as ridiculous as it seems. His skin prickles, itches, like it doesn't quite fit right on him; as he rubs a hand over the opposite arm, he begins to realize why. He's half-expecting rough fur under his palm, not smooth skin. He wants to -- no, he _needs_ to shift.

Wriggling out from under the covers, Prompto sheds his underwear -- the last item of clothing he was wearing. Now Ignis is beginning to stir as well, and Noct sits up, smiling. "Go on," he says. "About time you changed."

Prompto can't figure out how to do it at first. It's not like the moon triggers anything to happen. He closes his eyes, tries to give himself a mental order: _Be the wolf. Be the wolf_. No, that sounds stupid--

"Like this," Noctis says, and between one breath and the next, he's a wolf.

He's beautiful in this form: rich black fur, tipped with frost under his belly and down his long legs, and deep blue eyes that shine even in the dimness of the room. He drops his forelegs in a playful pose, tongue lolling from his mouth, and then leaps from the bed. Gladio grunts in his sleep and rolls over into the space left vacant.

Prompto nods and inhales, lets it out again, tries to unfocus. He knows what it feels like to meditate (he tried it a lot in high school when he was feeling too stressed), and it's not difficult to reach that space in his head again where he's calm, where he feels bigger and smaller than everything else at the same time--

Something shifts.

He opens his eyes. He's looking down at a snout, at furred forelegs, grey and brown and white. He twists on the bed to try and get a better look at himself. Ignis is smiling sleepily at him.

"Go on, you're getting fur all over the bed," he says, and with something like a wolf-laugh, Prompto leaps off the bed after Noctis.

He doesn't stay in wolf-shape for long; it's still too new and strange. He's also a little freaked by how comfortable and natural it feels, and he remembers Gladio saying that it was a bad idea to stay a wolf for too long (even though he's pretty sure Gladio meant weeks, not hours). Plus, there's not really a lot of room to run around in Noct's apartment and it's not as if they can just take the elevator and head outside to play.

Still, he likes it. Being a werewolf is going to have its drawbacks, Prompto has no doubt, but it has its fun aspects too -- and that's not even including all the sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto teaching himself to cook while he was losing weight is my new fave headcanon ok


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter, sorry.

He's reminded of one of the drawbacks when his tuxedo is delivered from the tailor's shop the Monday before the gala. Taking it out, he stares at the fine cloth, much nicer than anything he's ever worn, and feels anxiety snaking through him.

 _No_ , he tells himself. _It'll be fine. The guys will be all dressed up, too; I'll fit right in with them_.

As it turns out, Prompto had rather drastically underestimated how the rest of his new pack would look fully glammed up in formalwear. When he arrives at Noct's suite at the Citadel hours before the gala is scheduled to begin, his new tuxedo in a garment bag (no way he was wearing it on the train), he pushes open the door and feels his jaw drop.

Noctis, as he'd figured, has a special suit for formal occasions. There's a sash and gold braid and all sorts of fancy things, all of which he's clearly trying to ruin by slouching on the sofa peering at his phone; even so, Prompto can see he'll look nothing less than princely when he stands.

Gladio and Ignis have tuxedos similar to Prompto's, less flashy but cut to fit them precisely. Seeing them, Prompto feels immediately outclassed and wonders how long it'll take him to spill something on his lapel or dip a cuff in some sauce that leaves a permanent stain. He remembers some girls at school talking once about how the right suit just seemed to make hot guys even hotter. Now he knows exactly what they meant. Gladio isn't the formal wear type by any means, but gods _damn_ do those pants show off his muscled thighs. He's got his hair slicked back, the growth in the back braided in a neat queue, and somehow his eyes look even bigger and more golden this way. 

For Ignis, it's not as much of a change; he wears dressy vests and white shirts and ties every day. It's more subtle with him: he stands a little straighter, the bowtie neatly settled under his chin, every line of him as if he just stepped out of some kind of fashion catalog. 

Prompto realizes he's staring. He chokes on a laugh and swallows. "Uh, I guess I'm a little underdressed, huh?"

"Need a hand?" Gladio offers. He doesn't flicker an eyelash, but Prompto's suddenly, keenly aware of Gladio's alpha scent. He wants Gladio, like, kind of a fuck of a lot, wants to undo that cummerbund and sink to his knees, take Gladio's cock out of his pants, the rest of his clothes still on, suck him down--

"Are you two doing this right now?" Ignis says, mildly. Noct whines a little. Prompto snaps out of it like he's been hit with a bucket of icewater. 

"Oh my _gods_ ," he says, and flees to the nearest bedroom.

* * *

It still doesn't seem real. Even after being with Noct and Ignis -- after being _knotted_ , having each of them bound to him like that -- and even after everything else, like how the world is a new bounty of scents and tastes to be explored, and how Regis had that imperative commanding senior-alpha thing going on, and after transforming into a wolf himself... even after all of that, it still doesn't seem real.

Shaking a little, Prompto goes into the adjoining bathroom to wash his hands and face. Once he's calmed down a bit, he begins to undress, unzipping the garment bag and taking everything out.

When the tux was delivered to his apartment, his parents were home; he'd had to come up with a fast excuse. Fortunately, being friends with a prince loaned itself nicely to white lies of this nature. He could tell them that Noct invited him to hang out at the big charity gala the King is throwing at the Citadel over the weekend and it wasn't even a lie, not really. 

"I guess he thought it'd be fun to see how the other half lives for a night, you know?" Prompto had sounded appropriately nervous, and his mother had chuckled and then told him he was allowed to drink _one_ glass of champagne and no more, and that it was all right if he stayed overnight at the Citadel. (As if he hadn't already done so more than once. He wasn't about to bring that part up, though.)

Now, as he steps into the pants, puts on the shirt and tucks it in, he swallows. He kind of wants to go home. There's no way he'll fit in here.

He's just tucking the shirt in when there's a knock on the door. The scent announces it, but Noct says, "It's me," anyway, and Prompto can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Prompto says. Noctis slips in and closes the door behind him. 

"You need any help?" he offers. "I know the cummerbund thing is tricky."

"Actually, yeah." Prompto finishes buttoning the pants and holds up the confusing cummerbund; Noctis comes close, taking it and stepping behind Prompto to slide it around his waist and fasten it from behind. 

"Wanted to make sure you were all right," Noctis murmurs, smoothing it once it's in place. His arms come around Prompto, and Prompto leans back with a soft exhalation. 

"Guess I'm freaking a little. But I'll be OK," he says. "Everything's still so new, you know? It's only been a few weeks, and I guess I keep getting these reminders all the time."

"I know." Noctis presses a soft kiss to Prompto's hair. "Just remember we're all here for you, OK? You ever start freaking out, you got us."

Prompto smiles, closing his eyes and relaxing into Noctis's embrace for a long, sweet moment. Then he straightens, reluctantly. "Let me just finish gettin' dressed here, and I'll be good to go."

"Aw, but I like you better when you're all undressed." Noctis teasingly hooks his fingers in the cummerbund; Prompto laughs and pulls away.

"Save it for after the gala, loverboy."

* * *

When he steps out of the bedroom, fully outfitted and Noct on his heels, a fresh, dizzying scent of want hits him hard. He blinks as he takes it in, realizing it's coming from both Gladio and Ignis. He's affected them as much as they did him. It makes him feel a good bit better about the whole business.

Much as he'd like, he can't indulge right now. Since Noct is Regis's son and the next King of Lucis as well as the next in line to be senior alpha for the country, he has to be there before the guests arrive. That means the rest of them do too, so it isn't long before they're heading to the elevator that will take them to the top floor.

Prompto's never been this high up in the Citadel, or anywhere in the city for that matter, in his life. When he steps out into the open air of the top floor, he has to stop and take a breath. The center of the roof is dominated by a gigantic saltwater fishtank -- Prompto recognizes some of the species from fishing expeditions with Noctis -- and the rest of the open rooftop is arranged around it. There's a space for the string quartet, currently warming up and tuning their instruments next to a formal dance floor; nearby, he sees the dining area, with a chef putting final touches on canapes and hors d'ouvres, waiters with trays arranging the finger food to distribute later. Right by that is the open bar, staff already preparing legions of champagne flutes and opening bottles to make ready for the soon-to-be-arriving guests. Huge arrangements of flowers and greenery form distinct conversation spaces, with couches and chairs here and there to accommodate a variety of needs. The weather has complied tonight; there's a mild breeze, but even as high up as they are, it's still warm. Just in case, though, tall linen panels have been placed here and there to block the wind or at least provide respite from it.

Near the aquarium, King Regis stands talking with Clarus Amicitia; Cor Leonis is there, too, a few steps away, his arms folded. He looks distinctly uncomfortable in his tuxedo, and Prompto feels a rush of sympathy.

"Noctis!" Regis calls as soon as he catches sight of them. He gestures broadly with one hand: _come here_ , and Noct goes, Gladio and Ignis trailing him. Prompto follows, a beat behind the others.

He doesn't really pay a whole lot of attention, since Regis is talking more to Noct and Ignis about the party and all that, but he perks up when he hears his name from an unfamiliar voice. 

"And this is Prompto Argentum?"

Blinking, Prompto nods before his eyes settle on Clarus Amicitia, who's watching him with an expectant, if slightly disappointed, expression (one Prompto is wildly familiar with).

"That's me, sir," he says.

Noct's arm slides around Prompto's waist. "My mate, and my pack's omega," he adds, as if Clarus hasn't probably picked every bit of that up from scent alone.

Clarus simply nods, though. "Take care of them," he says to Prompto, and then turns away to discuss something with his son. Prompto blinks after him.

"Well, I believe our guests are beginning to arrive," Regis says, before Prompto can attempt to interpret that. "Shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

_All right_ , Prompto's forced to admit, an hour or so later, _this high-society stuff isn't so bad_.

It'd probably be worse if all the attendees actually _were_ high-society types, but pretty much everyone here is much like him: ordinary people dressed up and decked out in their finest for one special night. Regis knows _everyone_ here, it seems, which isn't really that surprising given he's in charge of all the werewolf packs in Lucis. Noct isn't as familiar with them, but he introduces Prompto to those he does know, explaining that after years of this annual thing, everyone gets to know everyone else by face and scent if not by name.

And Prompto is a lot more popular than he thought he'd be. At first, it's kinda nice, too. He's never at a lack for someone to talk to, and since most of them are commoners like him, he doesn't feel intimidated. (For the most part, anyway. There are a few here who clearly do feel like they're above everyone else, despite their common werewolf-ness, but they keep to themselves for the most part and pretend to ignore the rest of the lot.)

He has a glass of champagne, and then another (yeah, against his mom's orders, but he _is_ staying over tonight: not like he has to drive anywhere). At some point Noct gets dragged off by Regis to meet someone, and Prompto's left alone in a conversation circle with a couple of alphas and a female omega (he has _so_ many questions but doesn't dare, they all sound incredibly rude in his head).

A third glass of champagne is pressed into his hand and he doesn't even think about it before taking a sip. "Thanks," he says, and turns, assuming it's Noct -- scenting isn't working too well due to being on the breezy rooftop -- only to see an unfamiliar face instead.

The man is tall and objectively handsome, Prompto supposes, in sort of a bland cookie-cutter way, with dark hair brushed back from a high forehead. He wears a tailored tuxedo, like most of the other men here; his bearing, however, is anything but casual. One of the snooty ones, Prompto realizes after a moment, who'd been avoiding the lowly commoners milling about.

"You're quite welcome," the man says. "My apologies. I'm Eduard Fiernio, and you must be the new omega I've been hearing so much about...?" He extends a hand. After a moment, Prompto realizes he's supposed to shake it. He transfers the champagne to his left hand and does so.

"Prompto Argentum," he says. "Uh, yeah, I am, I guess? I mean, I don't know if people are actually talking about me, that'd be kind of weird, don't you think?"

"Not at all." The man's definitely an alpha; Prompto gets that much just from the brief flash of scent when the breeze turns toward him for a moment. Even without that, he would have guessed. Eduard doesn't let go of his hand right away, rubbing his thumb over Prompto's knuckles as if to try and wring every possible second out of the handshake. Prompto finally pulls his hand back, hoping it doesn't come off as rude.

"So, tell me, Mr. Argentum," Eduard starts, and Prompto finds himself looking around for his father. "This is the first of these gatherings in which I've had the pleasure of seeing you. Have you known of your omega side for very long?"

"Not really," Prompto says. The people he'd been talking to have, frustratingly, drifted away; Prompto could use some social support right now. He glances around for the others and sees Regis and Noctis talking to several people, Ignis by the bar, Gladio... not in sight anywhere. Shit. "I, uh, I just found out recently."

"Fascinating. I wonder -- pardon my forwardness -- shall I assume you're here to meet a mate? It's the most fortuitous timing." Eduard steps closer; Prompto tries to step away, only to find himself backing into a tall planter, leaves scratching in his hair. The man isn't that much bigger than Prompto, but he's using every inch to loom over him.

"A-actually, I have a mate," Prompto says. It sounds a bit less sure coming out of his mouth, and Eduard's mouth curves in a little unpleasant smile.

"Oh? And where is he? He doesn't seem to be very interested in coming to your rescue, and you smell so very sweet. Surely we can find someplace private--" Eduard's hand finds Prompto's shoulder, and Prompto's fear shifts to anger in an instant.

"Dude, get your hand off me." He puts his hands on Eduard's chest and pushes. Though Eduard is bigger, Prompto has the element of surprise, and the alpha stumbles back a step or two. Prompto takes the opportunity to move to the side, so that he's not trapped with the planter at his back.

"How _dare_ you," Eduard starts to snarl, and then an arm curls lazily around Prompto's shoulders: a big, muscled arm it is, as is the rest of the person who's suddenly blanketing his back. The scent that hits Prompto suddenly is so pleasant and familiar that Prompto just wants to sag in relief. 

"I think you're the one who needs to be asking for an apology," Gladio drawls, the tone of voice utterly opposite to the tension of his body. "Prompto here is the Prince's mate and part of his pack. So am I, for that matter. If you can't use your nose and be polite, you'll be escorted out."

Eduard goes weirdly red, the tips of his ears and his forehead looking blistered. Gladio says nothing, though his scent rolls with challenge: _Just try it, pal_. After a moment, reason wins over temper and Eduard steps back, managing the slightest bow. 

"My apologies to you and your packmates," he says. "Please, do not allow my... forwardness to sour your evening."

As he goes off, somewhat stiff, Prompto sinks hard against Gladio. "Oh my gods," he says, "that guy was a fucking _creep_."

"No shit." Gladio presses an absent kiss to the back of Prompto's head. It's a little for show, Prompto thinks: the little confrontation hasn't gone unnoticed, and Prompto wonders if the dude will even be invited back next year. "You did fine, though. No one should pull shit like that. Especially when you're still new to all of this."

Prompto thinks about how easily Eduard could have overpowered him, could have held him down and-- "Thanks," he whispers.

"Hey," Gladio says, turning Prompto in his arms and hugging him. "Nothin' to be scared of, OK? Most of us aren't that fuckin' rude, and the ones who are get punished appropriately. And we're always going to be here for you, me and Noct and Iggy. Plus, you've got the protection of the Crown, so that includes Regis and my dad."

 _Wow_. It's more reassuring than Prompto wants to admit. He presses his cheek to Gladio's shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of him beneath the crisp smooth fabric of his jacket. Unbidden, the memory of wanting to sink to his knees for Gladio rises and he smothers a laugh.

"I'm gonna pay you back later for this," he promises. 

Gladio chuckles low. "You don't have to repay me, but I'm never gonna turn that down, trust me. Now come on, let's go find Noct and let him and Regis know we gotta keep an eye on His Fancifulness there."

* * *

Prompto manages to wait until they've made it into Noct's suite, at least. The gala goes on until well after midnight; some of the guests come from outside Insomnia and they want to make the most of their rare visits into the city, and due to Noct's royal status, he has to be present until the festivities officially end. So by the time they finally get to crowd into the elevator and head back downstairs, the last of the guests having been escorted to waiting transport or overnight accomodations, it's after three in the morning, easy.

Noct starts dragging his regalia off as soon as they're in the door; Ignis is close behind him, helping him undo the sash and the intricate catches of the jacket. Prompto already took off his tie and stuffed it in a pocket; he watches Gladio shrug out of his own tuxedo jacket and loosen the tie around his neck so that the ends dangle loose from under his collar. He grins as he glances at Ignis and Noctis, preoccupied now with Noct's waistcoat, and then steps in close to Gladio. The big man tilts a lazy, inquisitive look down at him as Prompto's fingers nudge under Gladio's cummerbund, finding and teasing open the latch of the tuxedo pants.

"I still owe you for before," Prompto says, and Gladio grins even as his hands catch at Prompto's shoulders.

"Let me just," he starts. Prompto shakes his head. He nudges and Gladio steps back once, twice, until his back is against the closed door of the suite.

"Nope," Prompto says. "I'm the omega, I get to say what happens." He gives Gladio a little smile and drops to his knees even as he tugs down the zipper of Gladio's pants.

"Far be it from me," Gladio manages, with just the smallest shake in his voice. Prompto can smell his desire, his arousal, and more than that he scents that Ignis and Noctis are very much interested as well -- though they're still at the far end of the room, by the sofas, and pretending to still be undoing Noctis's waistcoat. 

The idea that he has an audience has Prompto shivering with need all at once. He knows Gladio's OK with this, so he just goes for it, slipping his hands into the loose opening of the trousers and sliding down the elastic of the boxerbriefs (black, _of course_ , they probably have the Crownsguard insignia stitched into the rear).

"Sweet Shiva," he breathes as he gets his hand around Gladio's cock. Gladio's hard already and as disproportionately huge as Noctis. _Alpha cock_ , Prompto remembers, and trembles all over.

"Prom," Gladio mutters. His voice is low, raw, and he heaves in a sharp breath when Prompto tugs him out into the air.

Prompto sits back on his heels just for a moment to look up at Gladio. He's just as Prompto imagined him: fully clothed, still, save for the open pants and heavy cock jutting out; tie loose around his neck, his throat red with heat, his eyes dark and half-closed. One of his hands sinks into Prompto's messy hair, not guiding, just touching him. Prompto makes a little keening sound and pushes up again, fingers around Gladio's dick to orient him, and then he takes Gladio in his mouth.

It's really very nearly too much. Gladio'd probably be big even if he wasn't an alpha, but god, his dick is just _fat_ all the way around. Even the head is broad, already leaking salty pre-come, and for the first few moments Prompto settles for acclimating himself to this, running his tongue around the tip and glans, tasting him, even teasing the tip of his tongue into the slit. Gladio gives a weak, needy moan at that, sending another shiver of heat through Prompto. (It's so hot, Prompto's so wet, he can't wait to have this cock in his ass.)

He opens more, sucks Gladio deeper. The fingers of one hand are wrapped around the base of Gladio's cock, so thick that his fingertips barely meet his thumb. He wonders if Gladio will pop his knot in his mouth, kind of wants that a little. 

Behind him, he registers wet sounds. He has to pull back, just for a moment, to look; he lets Gladio slide out of his mouth but keeps working his hand on Gladio's shaft as he twists. Somehow it's not a surprise to see Ignis and Noctis on the couch, kissing deep and desperate; their suits are half-off, clothes draped haphazardly over the back of the couch.

"Prompto," Gladio says weakly, and Prompto whips back around. His hand had gone still on Gladio's cock while he was watching Noctis and Ignis making out, the two of them responding to the scent of Gladio's arousal -- and Prompto's. Prompto squirms. He's so wet, so hard, and suddenly it occurs to him (what a time to think of a thing like this) that he doesn't want to ruin the tux pants.

"Sorry," he says, somehow managing not to sound sorry at all. "But, uh, you wanna go get more comfortable and I'll pick up where I left off?"

Gladio inhales sharply and nods. He takes Prompto's free hand and pulls him to his feet, and Prompto grins as he pulls Gladio with him toward the same room where he and Ignis had fucked before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's that Gladio/Prompto time you've all been waiting for.

Prompto's starting to understand more of this pack stuff now. The room here is used for all of them, much like the pack bedroom in Noct's apartment, and he's pretty sure it's where they'll be for his heat. The other bedroom is where Noct sleeps, or Noct and Prompto when Prompto stays here. Maybe things will be different eventually -- well, Prompto hopes so, he wants his pack to all live together in one place -- but that's not really feasible right now.

He stops worrying about it when Gladio catches up to him at the side of the huge bed. Prompto takes a moment to peel back the bedspread, leaving only a fitted sheet on the mattress.

"Here," Gladio says, and turns Prompto to him, starting to undo the weird little buttons of his dress shirt. Prompto laughs, but he shucks out of the tuxedo jacket and tosses it to a chair, undoes his cummerbund to add to the pile. When Gladio's got the shirt undone, Prompto leaves it hanging loose and open and starts on Gladio's suit in turn. Gladio lets him, clearly amused at the fact that his dick is still hanging out, stiff and red and wet-tipped, while Prompto carefully undoes him.

"Do you want," Prompto starts, and then swallows. It occurs to him suddenly that he's had less interaction with Gladio than with any of the others. "I could keep going, or--"

He undoes Gladio's cummerbund and lets it drop; Gladio takes over from there, getting his pants open and pushing his boxerbriefs down at the same time so it all just falls in a puddle of black cloth. While Prompto's still blinking at the sudden nudity, Gladio cups Prompto's face in his hands and draws him in for a kiss.

 _Oh_. He hadn't even done that yet, he was so distracted by the raw sexual alpha heat of Gladio. For all that Gladio's big, he's also surprisingly gentle. One hand sinks into Prompto's hair at his nape, the other thumb brushing soft over Prompto's cheekbone. All the power of him is contained; Gladio trembles a little with an intense self-control.

"If you're asking if I'll fuck you, the answer is yes," Gladio says, drawing back from the kiss and letting his forehead rest against Prompto's, so close Prompto can feel Gladio's breath on his lips.

"Good," Prompto breathes, with a relieved laugh. He has a few last articles of clothing to shed, too, and he makes haste, tugging his shoes off and then his pants, while Gladio undoes the laces on his own shoes and puts them aside, pulls the socks off too. (Prompto's secretly glad. He's always a little weirded out by those pornos where guys leave their socks on, or their jockstraps or whatever.)

Gladio, done before him, sits back and then lays on his back on the mattress, spread out like an invitation. Prompto stumbles out of his shoes, strips socks and underwear off, and then clambers onto the bed after him. It's the first time he's had a chance to see all of Gladio like this, and he spares a moment to just look at him, to see the lines of the nearly-finished tattoo that covers most of his chest and arms (and his back, as well, even though Prompto can't see that right now).

"I wish I could take a picture of you like this," he says without thinking, and then goes red.

Gladio just laughs, though, and holds his hands out. Prompto goes to him, biting his lip. It's nice knowing he's safe here, that he can say things like that and not be mocked or teased for them.

"Maybe one of these days, as long as you keep it off the Internet." Gladio tugs Prompto over him until he's spread like a blanket above him, his legs outside Gladio's, their cocks lined up between their bellies, elbows keeping his upper body propped up just enough. The idea of taking pictures of Gladio like this, naked and so sculpted and turned on, makes Prompto shiver.

"Maybe," Prompto agrees breathlessly, and squirms a little on Gladio, gets his knees under him so he can sit up a bit. "Gladio, I want--"

"Impatient, ain't you?" Gladio says, his smile widening. "I get it, and I mean, I am too, but it's our first time, here. I wanna get you ready a bit."

"I'm ready, I'm _so_ ready. I know you can tell." Prompto reaches for one of Gladio's hands and brings it to his ass. "Feel how wet I am for you, Gladio."

Gladio hisses as he slips two fingers into Prompto's body. They go in easy and slow, and Prompto groans. He loves being filled up like this, even if it's not enough. Those big fingers work in him a few times, Gladio's other hand cupping Prompto's nape to urge him down for a kiss he's pretty hungry for, and then Prompto feels additional pressure, a third wide finger working into him.

"You're still kinda tight," Gladio murmurs in the warm space between them. "I don't wanna hurt you, Prom, let me really get you goin' here, all right?"

Prompto whines a little, but he nods, drawing in a shaky breath. "OK. Yeah. But I _could_ take you now," he adds, because he feels like he still has to defend himself.

"You totally could," Gladio agrees, and his fingers push in again, a dense pressure that has Prompto arching against Gladio and gasping again.

While Gladio works those knowing fingers in him, Prompto decides it's a good time to explore Gladio a little, too. He already likes kissing him a lot, even though his stubbly beard is a little scratchy; he runs his fingers through Gladio's hair, undoing the braided queue it had been tied in for the gala and scratching at Gladio's scalp to make him hum in pleasure. Then, because he can't resist, he bends his head a little so that he can mouth at one of Gladio's nipples. They're small but hard, and the effect is electric: Gladio groans, his free hand clasping at Prompto's shoulder as his fingers push hard into Prompto's slick ass.

"Oh, that's _hot_ ," Prompto mutters, and does it again. He tries using the flat of his tongue, scraping it over the nipple, then just grazes his teeth along the slick hard flesh. Gladio keens underneath him.

"Fuck, what're you trying to do," Gladio grunts. "Don't wanna get off until I'm in you."

"You mean I could do that?" Prompto's eyes go wide and he looks up at Gladio. "You're that sensitive? I could--" His hand finds Gladio's other nipple and thumbs it, tweaks it. Gladio's hand covers Prompto's in a sudden gesture.

"Another time," Gladio growls.

"But I know you'll still be hard." Prompto's enjoying teasing Gladio a little more than he thought he would. His hand is trapped, but he can still lower his mouth to lick and bite at the other nipple again, and he can just barely keep his eyes tilted up to watch Gladio's reaction. "Got that hot alpha cock, I can't wait to climb on you and ride it. You're drivin' me crazy, Gladio, your fingers feel so good, just let me--"

Gladio exhales what might be a laugh or a groan. He drops his head back, and yeah, he's definitely smiling, even if it's edged with frustration. "You really never do stop, do you? Astrals, fine, do what you want. First omega I ever met who bottomed from the top."

"You just never met the right one before." Prompto winks, but he's moving, too, shifting up on his knees and sliding forward. One hand reaches behind himself; it's unnecessary, though, Gladio's slipped his fingers out of Prompto's body and brings that hand to his cock to hold it up. The head brushes between Prompto's slick cheeks, and both of them hiss when Gladio presses the tip firmly to Prompto's loose hole.

Gladio really is a whole lot of alpha, and for a moment Prompto panics, wondering if he really will be able to fit all of that enormous cock in him. Then he remembers how it worked for Noctis and wills himself to relax. Gladio's hands are on his thighs, now, and his dark-honey eyes watch Prompto for any signs of... anything, Prompto guesses.

"You don't have to," Gladio says, softly. Prompto has a brief flashback to the pushy alpha at the ball. He's already forgotten the guy's name, but he's sure the creep wouldn't have said anything like that at any time, just assumed that an omega would be blindly obedient to an alpha's command.

"I know," Prompto replies, and lets himself sink down on Gladio.

Another shared cry shimmers in the air between them. Gladio's is lower, Prompto's more of a mewl. But he really is so wet, and Gladio got him so good and ready with his fingers, that even the slightest burn of friction fades in moments into nothing but sheer pleasure and fullness. Now he's had them all in him, he thinks dimly, sitting back to get a new angle, to get Gladio a little deeper in him. Gladio makes another rough sound.

"You're killin' me, here, Prom," he says. His voice has gone hoarse; he sucks in air like a drowning man.

"Just... gettin' used to that alpha cock in me," Prompto whispers, and starts to move.

He notices very little for quite some time. The Citadel is mostly quiet around them at this time of night; though there are servants awake at every hour, none stir in the living quarters unless summoned. The only other sounds Prompto can hear, aside from his own gasping and Gladio's low grunts of pleasure when Prompto sinks down to take him in all the way, are the soft but distinct noises of sex coming from the suite's main room. Prompto's mind wanders briefly, pictures Noctis fucking Ignis -- getting him ready the old-fashioned way, with lube and his fingers and maybe his mouth -- and shudders as a new spasm of arousal washes over him.

"Thinkin' about the others?" Gladio rasps. His hands stroke up Prompto's narrow chest, down along his hips, avoiding the erection that bounces between them with every rocking slide of Prompto's body.

"'Course," Prompto says, swallowing. "Aren't you?"

"Little -- ahh -- little preoccupied." Gladio's hands hold firm at Prompto's hips and he thrusts up hard into Prompto, who cries out and arches back, a shock of pleasure rolling through him. He lifts up and pushes down hard, his hand curling around his own cock. It only takes a few strokes, Prompto's already so close; Gladio's cock drives into him, over the place that rockets pleasure through him, and Prompto comes, arching half off of Gladio with a shivering moan.

"Here, come here," and Gladio's tugging him down to rest on his chest, arms solid around him.

Prompto sags gratefully into Gladio's embrace, enjoying the solid heat of him. He can still feel Gladio hard and heavy inside him, can almost feel Gladio's pulse at his rim. He wriggles, experimentally working himself down a little and making little happy noises at the sensation.

Gladio makes a hungry noise. "Fuck, you really _are_ insatiable," he mutters into Prompto's ear.

Prompto grins at him. "You just figured that out?"

"Here." Gladio nudges at Prompto. "Get-- just for a sec--" Reluctantly, Prompto lets Gladio move him; they're only separated for brief moments of aching emptiness, and then Prompto arranges himself as Gladio indicates, both of them lying on their sides now, his back to Gladio's chest. Gladio has a hand between them to fit his cock to Prompto's wet and needy hole once more. He thrusts once, convulsively, sheathing himself in Prompto's body.

"Fuck!" Prompto shouts. His hips snap back in instinctive response; his cock begins to leak again. His belly's still liberally spotted with come, and Gladio brings one hand around to slide his fingertips in it like he's found a tasty treat. He holds a finger to Prompto's lips; eagerly, Prompto sucks it in, tasting his own come and the salty, calloused skin of Gladio's finger underneath. This is better, he's filled two ways now, and better even than that is the way Gladio groans, helpless, like he's broken him somehow.

"Can't wait to have you like this when you're in heat," Gladio mutters into Prompto's ear. "You'll be all spread out for us, taking us all any way you can, you want that?"

In lieu of an answer, Prompto shudders. He can't even imagine all the ways he wants that. Gladio begins to grind into him now, hard rolling pushes that white out Prompto's vision every time he's buried himself, and Prompto can feel the swelling at the base of Gladio's cock as he works in and out now. His knot: _finally_. Prompto keens and twists his hips backward, one hand on his cock and the other fisting the sheet. Gladio is everywhere, all around him and in him, filling his body and senses until he feels like there's nothing in the world but Gladio.

"C-come on, I need it, please," he breathes when Gladio's fingers slip out of his mouth. "The knot, please, I fucking need..."

"You're gettin' it, holy f-fuck--" Gladio makes a sound like a laugh and pushes harder, and now the knot is full; Gladio has to make an effort to punch it past Prompto's rim and into him. Prompto shouts at the shock of pain/pleasure. Heat surges in him; Gladio's cock throbs, his body shaking against Prompto's back and ass and thighs as he comes, and Prompto wraps an arm around Gladio's where it's draped over his chest. 

Gladio works himself back and forth, incremental slides, but the knot won't slip out of Prompto again. They're locked together now, and Prompto whimpers a little in relief and pleasure. "My alpha," he murmurs. Gladio shivers against him, brings his hand down to cover Prompto's neglected erection, which jerks in his grasp.

"My omega," Gladio says, low and possessive. Prompto belongs to all of them, and he loves it.

* * *

By the time Gladio's knot finally subsides, they've both climaxed once more, and Prompto feels dry and exhausted when Gladio slips out of him at last. He crawls up to the head of the bed and drops himself down again, half-asleep already with his head buried in a pillow. 

A hand gently shakes his shoulder; Prompto blinks up at Gladio, who's holding a bottle of water for him, a cloth in his other hand. He takes the water with a nod of thanks, gulping at it, while Gladio cleans him up a little, wiping up the drying come and the slick still spread over Prompto's thighs and ass. He doesn't scrub too much, leaving enough for the scent to stay, which is (weirdly) exactly what Prompto wants: to smell like his alpha, like his mates. After he's finished, Prompto gives him the water so he can drink the rest, then settles down again. Gladio pulls the covers up over them and snugs himself in behind Prompto, arm curled possessively around him.

Prompto has a moment of wakefulness to wonder what his heat will be like, if sex is so intense without it, and then he's drifting into sleep in Gladio's embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely the last of what I've had written in advance. But there's probably only one more part to go, so... yay? =P


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost.

In the days following the gala, Prompto thinks he should be more excited, or at least less nervous.

The date of the event had been chosen for a specific reason, Ignis had explained to him during the fitting. Due to the fluctuations in the cycles of omegas, a day halfway between the new moon and full moon was considered best for everyone to be calm and sociable. That meant, a week or so after the gala, Prompto's heat would be coming on.

He's already made plans, as much as he could: his parents would be out of town, so he didn't have to ask permission to stay at the Citadel. Noctis suggested he get as many days off work as possible, since he didn't know how this particular heat would affect him, or how much recovery time he might need afterward. That's the harder part; even though Prompto only works part-time, he has to find people to cover his shifts or consider himself fired. Finally he manages, through both begging and a little bribery, and thinks he should be ecstatic at the prospect of a weekend off. No work, nothing to do except have lots of hot sex with his packmates. Boyfriends? Mates? Fuck, _is_ there a term for whatever the hell he's doing with the others?

He wakes up late to the sound of his phone going off and rolls over to look at the time. It's around 10 a.m., and the full moon is tomorrow night. He should be getting ready to head over to the Citadel. He scoops up the phone and unplugs it from its charger.

"Yeah?"

"Dude, where are you?" Noctis doesn't sound worried, as such, but it's harder to tell with only a voice on the other end of the phone, no scent. "Thought you were gonna be here by now."

"I just woke up," Prompto says, yawning, and sits up in bed.

"You want us to come get you?"

Prompto starts to say no, then pauses. He feels itchy and kind of weird; he doesn't really want to have to deal with public transportation right now. "Actually, yeah, that'd be. That'd be good."

"Prom." Noct's voice goes softer. "Hey. You OK?"

"Sure, man, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? I get to have you guys all to myself all weekend. I'm super excited." Prompto knows he isn't the best actor, but he hopes he can at least avoid any deep discussion of the subject until he can be in Noct's arms, scent carrying all the things they can't say.

"OK," Noct says after a moment, sounding reluctant. "We'll be there in... fuck. Give us an hour? You don't have to do anything, Iggy will pack up whatever you need."

"I will not," Ignis calls from across the room, his voice loud and distant.

"Sure," Prompto says, managing a laugh. "Sounds good."

After they hang up, Prompto lets himself fall back to the bed. He wants nothing more than to go back to sleep. _Why aren't I excited about this? Is this normal? Shit, maybe I_ should _have asked questions last week._ He closes his eyes for a long moment, then pushes himself upright and plods into the bathroom. At least he can take a shower before the others arrive.

* * *

By the time the car pulls up outside, Prompto has managed to get dressed, which feels like a major accomplishment. He's staring at an empty duffel bag when he hears the engine dying; a moment later, Noct comes in. Even in his bedroom, Prompto can smell the reassuring scent of alpha-mate-home that is Noctis, and he turns his face to the door, his smile weak when Noct enters the room.

"Prom," Noct says softly, and comes to sit down next to him on the bed. "Hi."

Prompto just leans hard on Noct and closes his eyes. An unpleasant shiver ripples through him and he nudges himself closer, as if he can somehow just climb into Noct and be safe there.

"Hey, hey." Noct's arms close around Prompto, his mouth pressing soft kisses into Prompto's rumpled, still-damp hair. "I've got you, baby, you're OK. Everything's fine."

Prompto lets out a long sigh. He can both hear and scent Ignis nearby; Gladio's still out by the car, waiting patiently for them. As Ignis _tsk_ s and picks up clothes and finds toiletries in the bathroom, Noctis rubs long soothing strokes over Prompto's back.

"It's gonna be OK," Noctis says. "You don't have to be scared, but it's OK if you are."

"Not scared," Prompto mumbles. Actually, he doesn't know _what_ he's feeling right now. He wants to shift; he wants to hole up in his closet (or in that den room in the Citadel where he endured his first heat); he wants to run away screaming. He settles for staying huddled in Noct's soothing embrace, their hearts beating in unison, until Ignis zips the duffel closed and says he's ready.

"Come on," Noct says. Prompto lets himself be led to the car. Seeing Gladio waiting for them, he has a sudden memory: being carted out here a month ago, draped inelegantly over Gladio's shoulder, yelling that he was being kidnapped. He's startled into a brief laugh.

"Oh good, I don't have to carry him out this time," Gladio says, holding the door open for them, and Prompto gives him a brief, wan smile as he gets in.

* * *

He was this tired last time, he recalls: Gladio had carried him into the Citadel as well. This time Prompto makes it under his own power, though Noct keeps an arm around him, shoring him up as they go in -- through the private entrance, again, to avoid any prying eyes. By the time they reach the elevator, though, Prompto's leaning heavily on the others.

"It's OK," Noctis keeps reassuring him. "We're almost there."

Prompto can't imagine how he could possibly be in the mood for nonstop sex shenanigans by tomorrow evening. Right now he feels tight and dry and like all he wants to do is sleep forever. Ignis goes ahead of them, holding doors open until they're in the pack bedroom of Noctis's suite. Gladio peels the sheets back; Noctis urges Prompto to sit, and Ignis helps him remove Prompto's clothes. 

"Is this all right?" Noctis asks, kneeling before Prompto, hands on his knees. "You want to go back in the den, like last time?"

Prompto shakes his head. He feels heavy, mazy with fatigue. "This's fine," he says. "So long as you'll be here. You'll be here?"

"Of course," Noctis assures him, his throat working hard. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"OK," Prompto says, smiling dopily, and lets himself collapse to the mattress.

* * *

Prompto sleeps heavily, dreamlessly, well into the next day. He wakes abruptly, shivering even though warmth surrounds him: Noctis is there next to him, his scent comforting and familiar in the dim light of the room. He's absorbed in something on his phone, but when Prompto stirs he tosses the phone to the nightstand and shifts to curl his arm around Prompto. "Hey," he murmurs.

Prompto squirms, suddenly too warm under the covers. "Too hot."

"Here--" Noctis shifts at once and pushes the bedspread down. The scent of all of them fills the room, and Prompto thinks it should relax him; instead, he feels uncomfortable and itchy. He sits up, scratching fingers through his hair. 

"Want something to eat?" Noctis offers.

"A shower," Prompto says, starting to scratch down his arms and his chest. Noctis tilts his head, watching him, then gets up and starts to strip. 

"Let me help," he offers.

For an instant Prompto feels like rejecting Noctis utterly. Even as he wonders where that thought came from, he's nodding, taking the hand that Noctis offers him, and following him into the connected bathroom. 

While Prompto sits on the edge of the gigantic jacuzzi tub, Noctis fills the tub with hot water, adding some liquid from a bottle on the shelf. The water glistens luxuriously; when Noctis gives Prompto a little push, he steps in, then sinks down with a deep sigh of relief. Steaming hot, silky water envelops him, and he settles, groaning, finding a place to rest his head at a softly-curved edge of the tub.

"That's gotta be better," Noct says, kneeling next to the tub and trailing his fingers in the water.

"You don't even know." Prompto tips his head back, closing his eyes. The tub is almost deep enough that he could float in it. "Felt like I was gonna claw my skin off there."

"It wasn't like that last time, huh?" Noctis trails water over Prompto's forehead, evoking a little shiver.

"Nah, not really. I just woke up super horny. This time, I don't know. Maybe it's different 'cause I know a little bit more about what's going on."

"Maybe." Noctis shrugs, sitting back on the rug next to the tub. "How are you feeling now?"

Prompto hums, soft, letting himself relax fully in the soothing water. "Still a little scared, I guess, but not very much. I guess maybe only 'cause I haven't been with all of you at once yet and I don't know what it's gonna be like. Even though it'll be good, I mean, no way it won't, the three of you." His smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, soft, as he remembers the powerful encounters he'd shared separately with Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio. Each on their own had been mind-blowing. All three together... he's not sure he'll survive the experience.

"Good," Noctis says, and Prompto can hear his smile. "I mean, one thing we don't want you to be is scared. And after this, nothing changes, right? We're bonded as a pack, that's what this means, but nothing else changes if you don't want it to."

"I know." Prompto reaches out and finds Noctis's hand, threads their fingers together as he tilts his head so he can look at Noctis now. "One thing isn't gonna change. I trust you guys more than ever."

Smiling, Noct kisses Prompto's knuckles. A new shiver flickers through Prompto, and he glances up even though the window is too high for him to see much of the sky besides the deep azure of late afternoon.

"It's almost time," he says, without knowing how he knows.

"C'mon, let's get you rinsed off," Noct says, and Prompto, feeling heavy after being submerged in the still-warm water, stands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm finally making good progress on the last part, but the lead-in actually took so long that I ended up deciding to make it its own chapter. The last one shouldn't be too much longer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whines about being up until 4:30 a.m. writing this*

The shower is cooler, the water room-temperature, and by the time it's done Prompto can feel an inexplicable pull: he isn't sure if it's his pack calling him or the moon. When he steps out of the shower, Noctis drapes a thick towel around him: Prompto steps into it and then closer, letting Noctis deal with the fabric while he kisses him.

Noctis makes a needy sound, his arms coming around Prompto to hold on to both him and the towel. It's so sweet to kiss Noctis like this, heedless of anything else. Well, not quite: Prompto scents Ignis and Gladio in the bedroom beyond, both of them naked and waiting calmly, if a bit tense around the edges.

The moon rises.

Far away as it is, still barely peeking over the rim of the world, its presence nonetheless permeates into Prompto's awareness instantly. Any remaining tension flees his body, heat and arousal and stimulation filling him in its wake. The others' scents shift at once, from patience to sudden, vital interest; Prompto feels Noctis stiffening against him and drags the towel away, tugging at Noct's shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his mate's skin against his own.

"Got you," Noctis breathes, "I've got you," and he keeps kissing Prompto and walks him backward at the same time. Prompto pays no attention to anything but kissing Noct, sucking on his tongue, trying to touch him everywhere, and so being tumbled to the bed catches him by surprise, if only for a moment.

They're all here with him, and Prompto doesn't know where to reach first: Gladio to one side of him, urging him up further on the enormous bed; Ignis on the other, a steady presence holding him; Noctis kneeling above him, so rushed to undress that his jeans and briefs are still caught at one ankle. Prompto swallows. It's happening, and he's stunned into indecision by the multitude of choices presenting themselves.

"You guys," he says, and Noctis gives him a soft smile and finishes tugging off his jeans, then rests a hand on Prompto's ankle.

"It's your show, Prom." Noct's voice only trembles a little, but Prompto can scent the want and need rolling off of him, the way it melds with Ignis's and Gladio's scents, all of them coming together to mingle in a way that will only ever mean _pack_ to him. "What do you want? You tell us."

Prompto's taken aback, but only for a moment. Then he starts to grin. Biting his lip, he glances over the others, all three naked and erect, all of them gorgeous in his own way: Ignis, so slender and agile; Gladio, built and buff, his tattoo spread wide like wings around his shoulders; Noctis, with his beautiful eyes and narrow build. He's had so long to think about this, and now he can finally indulge as he's always dreamed.

"Ignis," he says first. "I want-- I want you behind me?"

"Of course," Ignis says, the hoarseness of his voice telling Prompto just how turned on he is. Prompto rolls over, getting himself up on his hands and knees, and Ignis moves in behind him at once, between his legs. Those strong, slender-fingered hands find Prompto's hips; Ignis's cock rests in Prompto's cleft, sliding between his cheeks, and Prompto shudders even as Ignis keens, his cock already wet just from the slick that's dripping from Prompto.

"Do it," he groans, and Ignis wastes no more time finding the angle. Prompto drops his head and closes his eyes so that he can focus on the feeling of Ignis entering him in a smooth, hot slide, burying himself all at once. Groaning, Prompto pushes back to meet Ignis's thrust. "Gods, fuck me, _fuck_ me--" He feels half-blind with need. Ignis's cock is so good in him, filling him, but it's not enough, he needs more, even when Ignis pulls back and drives deep enough to sheathe himself. 

"More," he hears himself plead.

Ignis's laugh is raw. "You've got all of me," he gasps. "So good, Prompto--"

Noctis says something Prompto doesn't hear, lost as he is in the sheer sensate pleasure of being taken by Ignis. There was a reason he chose this position, though, and he's twisting his head, trying to see-- The mattress shifts, and then Gladio's there, his cock at Prompto's lips. Prompto opens his mouth gratefully and takes Gladio in.

Gladio's as huge as Prompto remembers, but right now it doesn't matter, he'll do whatever he can to get as much of that alpha cock in him. He practically gags on the head, breathes in through his nose and tries it again. _Down, get it in_ , he tells himself, tries to swallow.

Ignis's hand finds Prompto's neglected erection and he moans helplessly around Gladio's cock. A few swift strokes are all it takes before Prompto's coming, shaking through the first orgasm of the night. Ignis fucks him through it while another hand smooths over his back, where he can feel sweat blooming: Noctis touching him is what he needs, and he gives over, letting his mates do whatever they want to with him.

Ignis is the next to climax, his knot swelling inside Prompto even as Prompto finally manages to get a bare inch of Gladio into his throat. Gladio, for his part, is cursing aloud, one hand buried in Prompto's hair and the other cupping his nape. Prompto has to pull back; Ignis settles on his knees and Prompto leans back against him, gasping for air and letting Ignis hold him while his cock pulses what feels like a gallon of come into him.

"There," Noctis breathes, and Gladio drops to sit on his heels, too, hand absent on his own cock now, his eyes dazed. He's nowhere near coming yet; Prompto licks his lips, eyes greedy on Gladio's erection.

"You're next," he says, and Gladio laughs. So does Noctis. 

"Guess that's us told," Gladio says.

"Not until I'm done with you." Ignis kisses Prompto's neck, rubs a hand low on Prompto's belly; Prompto arches back against him, catlike. He blinks at Noctis, who's looking at him with stunned eyes, and suddenly the distance between them is too far: he holds a hand out to Noctis.

"Come here?"

It takes a few moments to get themselves rearranged, but then Noctis is pressed to Prompto's chest, their erections riding together, while Ignis groans and works his knot against Prompto's rim. Prompto comes again like that, and then Noctis falls back and tugs him down to lay on top of him; Ignis cries out as he pulls free of Prompto, tugging his hips up a little so nothing spills as he slides out.

Gladio's there in an instant, before Prompto can even complain about the loss and sudden emptiness. With Noctis securing him in his arms, all he can do is try to stay still and let Gladio move as he will. The broad head of Gladio's cock presses to Prompto's loose wet hole and he moans raggedly.

"Ready?" Gladio asks. His voice has gone low and rough, and Prompto shudders.

"Ready--" He hasn't even finished the word when Gladio pushes in. Now he's really glad he had Ignis go first; he doesn't think he'd have been prepared for the sheer size of Gladio any other way. He clings to Noctis, gasping, forehead pressed to Noctis's clavicle as Gladio buries himself, hard and huge in him, and then draws back for another, slower, slide.

Ignis sprawls beside them, and Prompto reaches for his hand, needing to feel that connection with him, to be touching all of them at once. Noctis presses kisses to Prompto's temple, his cheek, his ear, gentle touches that offset the way Gladio grinds into him, powerful and deep with every thrust. Prompto closes his eyes, lifts up to kiss Noctis again, and rocks against Noctis with each powerful slide of Gladio in him. It's so much better than last time, there's no comparison, none at all. Gladio makes raw, low sounds, gasps and grunts, every time he pushes in; sweat drops from his forehead, sizzles where it falls on Prompto's back.

He's just started to get used to it when Gladio groans louder, bending lower, a hand on Prompto's shoulder bracing him. "Prom," Gladio keens, and he punches in harder than before. It hurts this time, if only for a startling instant; Prompto makes a helpless sound, and Noctis tightens an arm around him even as Prompto feels the first flood of Gladio's semen filling him.

"It's OK," Prompto gasps. "It's OK, keep going." He knows _why_ it hurts; as loose and open and slick as he is, Gladio's rising knot is still a lot to take, a powerfully heavy fullness against his rim. Ignis's hand in his reminds him they're all there with him, helping him. Gladio obediently pulls back, breaking the seal again, and then punches back in with another snap of his hips. He keeps at it, working the knot against Prompto's over-sensitive hole until Prompto feels tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Finally, fucking _finally_ , Gladio stops, unable to move himself in any but the tiniest slide back and forth, Prompto's rim clutching too tight around him to let him go. 

Somehow, Gladio tips over to his side and brings Prompto with him. Shuddering, Prompto reaches out, his whole chest and belly naked and exposed and cold. Noctis is right there, nudging a knee between Prompto's thighs, kissing him and stroking a gentle hand over his side; then he leans up, checking in with Gladio, a soft wet sound telling Prompto that Gladio's getting his fair share of kisses.

Ignis: somehow in the daze of Gladio's orgasm and another of his own, Prompto's lost track of Ignis. He blinks, trying to focus his eyes in the dimness of the room. Then Ignis is there again, pressing something cool and plastic to Prompto's lips. It's the opening to a water bottle, the kind that won't spill if it's tipped over accidentally, and Prompto sucks eagerly on the refreshingly cold water, only now aware of how dry he'd become. Ignis takes it away again after a few sips, then sits, urging Prompto's head to his lap and running soft fingers through Prompto's still-damp hair.

"How we doing?" Gladio asks. His big hand moves over Prompto's hip and thigh, around to his belly. Prompto feels heavy with so much come inside him, Ignis's and Gladio's mingled together in him. Noctis sits at his knees, so that Prompto can tilt his head down and see him, smiling softly.

"Good," Prompto whispers.

* * *

Gladio's cock, still hard inside him, continues to spit out little pulses of come as his knot begins to subside. Prompto thinks he's starting to understand just how important it is to have a really supportive pack when an omega goes into heat: he doesn't want Gladio out of him, even though that's rapidly becoming an inevitability, and he's been lazily sucking on Ignis's cock and it's still _not enough_. He's desperate for Noctis, as desperate as he was when the moon rose, and it's still not going to be enough. How he'd make it through the next several hours until moonset without his mates to keep him satisfied, he has no idea (and doesn't really want to think about it anyway).

The sound Gladio makes when he slips free is almost painful and sweet at the same time. Prompto's on his back as soon as Gladio lets him go; Noctis, kneeling there, takes him at once, tilting Prompto's hips up so they're resting on Noct's thighs, fits himself in and drives home in the same instant. Prompto shouts, raw, ragged, clasping at Noct's arms. Beside them, Gladio's settled in Ignis's arms, both of them still aroused, still smelling of desire and need for their omega, for their pack. It hardly surprises Prompto at all to see them kissing, Gladio shamelessly working his erection into the heat of Ignis's belly, and when he reaches out to them, Gladio takes his hand and folds his fingers around their cocks, urging him to help them along.

Noctis's face is something Prompto will never forget. He looks transcendent, utterly lost in Prompto. Even as he fucks him, hips working steadily, his lips have parted and his tongue touches the corner of his mouth like he's forgotten himself entirely. Prompto's free hand drifts up to Noct's belly, to his chest, and Noctis catches Prompto's fingers in his and kisses them.

"That's it," Prompto whispers, and closes his eyes when Noctis comes in him.

* * *

Knotted, Noctis lets himself collapse half on Prompto. One of Prompto's arms comes around him; the other hand, Noctis can see, is busy between Ignis and Gladio, adding to the pleasure their mates are giving each other. Prompto hooks a lazy thigh around Noctis's and sighs into his hair.

"Not enough," he breathes. Noctis whimpers.

* * *

Prompto loses track of orgasms, of how many times he's been fucked, of how often each of them has been inside him. At one point, while laying on his side, he had Noctis from behind, and Ignis pressed to his chest while Gladio fucked him. If he'd had any more brain capacity, he'd have been fascinated by the fact that Gladio wasn't knotting Ignis -- that they didn't all knot every time -- but Ignis certainly didn't seem to mind, as long as Gladio prepared him thoroughly. Which he had. Prompto had drunk in every moan from Ignis's mouth, even added an exploratory finger to Gladio's before Ignis declared himself ready. 

He measures the night in his lovers, in his packmates. In the restless tangle of limbs, in the hungry kisses, in the constant shift as each of them finds their place in him again. Pleasure comes as much from feeling their satisfaction as it does from being given his own, and when the sweetness of it begins to ebb, he's not sure he's ready for it to be over.

It's insane. He's _got_ to be done. The moon's pull is starting to fade, and through the windows he can see the early glow of dawn. He makes a sound that's more pain than pleasure, and Noctis, knotted in him, winces in sympathy.

"I know, baby," he says. He sounds as raw as Prompto feels. "We're almost done, we just gotta--"

"Don't," Prompto says, but Noctis, his knot slowly softening, pulls back from Prompto, careful, gentle: his cock still makes a wet sound as it pops out, though. 

Prompto's _empty_ , and worse, he's so sore and tired and overused he wants to cry. He feels bruises, bites, places where one or another of them left their mark on him. He's heavy with come, thinks it would gush out of him if he sat up right now.

But Noctis is right there, holding him, cradling him in a gentle embrace. Gladio's on the other side of him, and Ignis is next to him, all of them touching him, their hands gentle. They look as tired and used as Prompto feels, and he blinks as he glances from one face to the next. Their faces are almost the same: concern and warmth in each pair of eyes, Gladio's honey-amber, Ignis's cool green, Noctis's deep blue. The moon sets, and with it, Prompto feels the last greedy tension drain from him. He curls into Noctis's arms and draws in deep breaths.

"It's OK," Noctis murmurs. "It's OK, Prom. I've got you."

" _We've_ got you," Gladio corrects.

"Tell me what you need," Ignis says.

Prompto hiccups. He almost wants to cry. They're all still there. They don't care about how he looks or smells or what he just did.

"I need a nap," he says in a small voice, and Noctis gives a startled laugh.

"You rest, baby." He presses a kiss to Prompto's forehead. The mattress shifts: Prompto hears the others moving, and then there's a smell of something fresh and cool as Noctis wipes Prompto down, an astringent scent on the cloth that cuts through the musty scent of sex but doesn't pull his mates' smells from his skin completely. Then they're moving, Noctis lifting him just enough for Ignis to replace the sheet on the bed, soaked as it is with come and sweat and saliva. When Prompto stretches out again, he's still tired, but he doesn't feel as utterly worn and exhausted as before. Gladio's there, on his other side, with a bottle of juice held to Prompto's lips, then something fluffy and warm: bits of sweet buttery bread fed to him a shred at a time.

It doesn't take much for him to be full, and when he nudges Gladio's hand away, the man readily sets the food aside. Ignis is back, now, on the far side of Noctis; Prompto reaches to make sure he can touch him as he drops his head to the pillow and yawns hard.

"Shower later," Noctis decrees, and Prompto nods and turns, finding a comfortable position on Noct. Gladio settles behind him, blanketing him with his body; Ignis's arm hooks around Noctis, palm warm on Prompto's arm. Prompto closes his eyes, settles into the protective warmth of his packmates. He's never felt more like he's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over. I hope the ride was worth it!


End file.
